The Swan Prince
by partofforever
Summary: Harry comes back to England to dance with The Royal Ballet. He gets a chance to play his dream role, but there is a downside to it - his partner seems to simply hate him. AU: Modern, Ballet.


_**AN** : If there is an AU I wanted to write even more than skating-AU, it's ballet (I think I saw a fanart of it in the past? it might have been lawlight though?). Anyway, enjoy the things I do when I should be working on my NaNo._

* * *

 **The Swan Prince**

" _Balancé_!"

Harry could hear they already started. He hated being late and it was his first day with The Royal Ballet... He was already able to guess what awful things they'll say behind his back after the morning warm up... Why did he have to sleep in today of all days? Why didn't anyone call him? Oh yes, he didn't know anyone here... They were probably happy he was late. For some reason everyone seemed to think he was some huge threath to their careers. He should thank Gellert Grindelwald, his previous teacher, more. His fame was enough to make people tremble even if he wasn't even there, only sending a debutant to get eaten alive.

Finally the door was right before him. He got some second thoughts suddenly. Well, he _did_ want to come back home and work in England, but maybe staying in Russia would have been wiser? He had a steady position there, not only because of Grindelwald's school, but also due to his own talent. He was _known_ there. And here... He was one of the many dancers, some probably better than him. _It's not about people believing that you're the best_ , he suddenly remebered his teacher's last advice. _It's only about you. Walk in as if you were walking down from your most succesfull stage._

But what was his most succesfull stage? Did he have one? _Don Quixote_ probably? He nailed the variation... People liked it. He felt like flying that time. It was probably the very reason he started taking ballet classes - to fly. It wasn't the excitement of stage or people's love, it was the feeling of internal lightness expressed in movement.

"Will you go in or are you staying here?" Someone asked behind his back and Harry jumped in surprise.

Right beside him, there was another boy, a little bit taller and... and so _ginger_ Harry lost his ability to speak for a moment. He must have looked extremely stupid and regretted it later, but he didn't see anyone so _red_ in some time.

"I'm..." Harry wanted to say something, but still didn't regain his ability to form thoughts into words.

"You're...?" The boy teased him with a mischievous smile, but then his face expression changed all at once. "Heavens, you must be the new one, right? Wait, what was it? Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Yes, that's me," he answered with relief, realising he wasn't the only one to be late.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the redhead greeted Harry merrily, shaking his hand. "I'll tell them I was showing you around, ok? Malfoy was threatening to fire me if I'm late one more time..."

Harry nodded in approval, forgetting about his grand entrance and following Ron into the room.

The music died suddenly. Everyone was staring at them - at Harry - intensively, as if he was a sheep among a pack of wolves. It didn't feel... nice.

Mr Mafloy, the director, was there too. He didn't comment on Harry and Ron's late arrival, but his face was more than disapproving.

The other dancers... Well, the weren't even trying to hide their anger. Was is because they were late? Or was there some other reason? Harry didn't know. Probably they disliked him for the sole purpose of disliking someone. He was another person to get casted, meaning one of the older dancer could loose their place... Should he feel bad about it? Harry realized he didn't. It was his dream and he was going to make it real.

"Well, I guess now that all our dancers are present" - the director sent Ron an especially dissatisfied look - "I can talk more about this season's big premiere."

The room fell silent all at once. All the chattering stopped as if Mr Malfoy casted a spell of some kind.

"Eternall love," the once famous ballet master began, looking around as if he was checking if everyone was paying attention to his words. "Cruel betrayal," he continued slowly like an actor on stage.

"No, it can't be..." A girl whispered behind Harry's back. She was nearly as ginger as Ron and stood next to a rather absent minded looking ballerina.

"Tragic end," Mr Malfoy summed up and Harry was nearly sure what ballet he was talking about. It could only be...

" _Swan lake!_ " Someone exclaimed enthusiastically and Harry recognized Draco, the director's only son. They've met briefly at a competition two years ago. Harry remembered with some satisfaction that he won that time.

" _Swan lake_ , indeed," Mr Malfoy confirmed."But we'll do it with a twist this time. We've all been there before - the beautiful queen and her evil twin... The handsome prince... But what if we had two princesses or two princess?"

"Political corectness," someone in the back commented aloud and Harry looked that way.

It was a young man, probably a few years older than he was, tall and dark-haired and... and so handsome Harry thought he'll have to sit down for a moment to recover. Did he just fall in love at first sight?

"And it's nothing new," the dancer continued in a bored tone, throwing Malfoy a dare. "We won't be the first to make it all about men."

"We won't be all about..." The director wanted to add something, but The Rebel, as Harry named him in his head, was already heading towards the door.

"Whatever," he replied, shrugging his shoulders and vanishing.

...

"It's Tom Riddle," Ron explained when they sat outside with coffee. It seemed there were a few groups inside _corps de ballet_ , one gathered around Lucius Malfoy's son, the other consisting of Ron and his sister - the ginger hair had to run in the family - her pensive girlfriend Luna, an already well-known ballerina Angelina Johnson and a descendant of a famous family: Augusta Longobottom's grandson, Neville. Tom Riddle was apparently a clique of his own. "Weird you didn't notice him before, he's living right across you."

"Why is Malfoy tolerating him?" Harry wanted to know. "Back in school we couldn't even think about talking back to Grindelwald, not to mention actually _doing_ it."

"Well, it's not school anymore," Nevilled chimed in, sounding a bit regretful. "Riddle's the best here and what's even more important the public loves him. If Malfoy fired him, they'd eat him alive."

Harry looked at his coffee. It was growing cold already, but he didn't mind. Some things were better cool. He had to regain his usual composition before the audition. Grindelwald would advise him to try. Even though Riddle said it was done before, Harry didn't mind. He'd love to play Odette's part. Well, even _Big Swans's Dance_ would be nice.

 _If you leave now, there will be no way back_. Once again his teacher's words popped in his head. _I'm offering you the stage. Why won't you accept it?_

Harry felt a muscle itch in his left leg. Nothing bad, but he should probably warm up some more before the audition.

He had to make it big or not at all.

…

They were in another practice room, looking at one another predatorily. It was a deadly fight. Ron was already out - even though he danced prince Siegfried's variation beautifully in Harry's opinion - and it seemed the competition for lead roles was getting more and more elite. Despite his earlier remarks, Riddle was there too, streching lazily by the barre. Harry had to acknowledge - if not admire - his compusure.

"Let's try the duets now," Mr Malfoy commanded, pointing at his son and his lithe friend Blaise Zabini.

 _Why can't I dance with Zabini?_ , Harry though desperately, not really liking the idea of dancing with Riddle. The Rebel was making him strangely uncomfortable, though it seemed utterly illogical. They didn't even know each other.

"Potter... and Longbottom," the director called them out and Harry felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. Neville would be a perfect prince Siegfried, especially in the first act.

Left and up and down, Harry felt he was flying once again. Neville seemed quite confident and it was a pleasure to dance with him. Maybe it wasn't as exciting as Harry would expect this role to be, but it was only an audition, right?

 _If you ever have a choice, be the best during audition. Only this will allow you to be the best on stage._ Why was his teacher so stubbornly invading his head today? It seemed more real than Lucius Malfoy's words:

"All right, try third act's _pas de deux_ now."

The evil twin, the witch, Von Rothbart's daughter Odile. Well, his son this time around. Harry tried to feel his wings turning black.

Music played and he was in again, though something didn't felt right. The previous part seemed more real, more... authentic.

Suddenly, someone laughed and Harry could no longer feel Neville's hands... His balance got messed up and soon enough he was lying flat on the floor, hissing in pain. The laughter only got louder.

"What exactly is your problem?" Harry asked angrily, seeing it was Tom Riddle that distracted them; he was getting irritated, though Riddle didn't do anything Harry haven't seen before. Kids were much more cruel than adults, he remembered it way too clearly.

"I don't know, probably the fact that not even a real swan would fall in love with Longbottom and his heavy feet?" Riddle wasn't laughing at them any longer, he was simply stating facts. "And you..." He looked at Harry with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. "A stone would be more seducing."

For a brief moment Harry felt a panick attack approaching and wanted to run away, to hide... He felt his cheeks burn, not sure whether it was from anger or shame...

But then, out of nowhere, another feeling emerged inside him, right beside fear. Harry wasn't sure how to name it - was it his pride? Anger? Desire to fight? Whatever it was, it made him stand up once again, face Tom and say:

"Really?" Harry felt his lips twich a little in what must have been a smirk. "Let me try you then. Dance with me."

Mr Malfoy observed them carefully. It seemed he liked what he saw.

...

"I won't accept it!"

Harry was still at the far end of the corridor, but he could already hear Draco's indignant tone. Did they announce the cast? He felt his feet going faster somehow against his will. What was he counting on? He was the new one and the the audition didn't turn out that well, more so after that stupid quarrel with Tom Riddle...

Malfoy ran in the opposite direction, throwing Harry a hateful glance. Who got the main part if not Draco? He'd be a perfect Swan Prince, even if there was more of the black one in him.

He reached the notice board at last. It was so crowded he could hardly see anything... But after a moment, as if realizing he was there, the other dancers started to move back, making a place for him. Someone patted him on the shoulder, someone smiled. Why were they so nice all of a sudden? Yesterday...

And then he saw it. His own name on the very top of the sheet right next to Ginny's... _Harry Potter, the Swan Prince._

People were all around him, but it felt as if he was somewhere underwater, the sounds muted and distant. The black letters were screaming against the white paper. Swan Prince. No, it was impossible, wasn't it? Why would they choose him? Why not Draco? Or Blaise? Or anyone else?

 _You were the best,_ a voice strangely resembling him the one of his teacher, spoke somewhere at the back of his head. _You deserved it._

He turned around quickly and practically run away toward the exit. He needed some air.

This year he could fly so high. This year he would have wings.

...

" _Dyadyushka_?" Harry couldn't hide his excitement while calling his teacher. He was a few inches above the ground already. "Are you there?"

"What is it, Harry?" Gellert Grindelwald sounded a little bit annoyed. He had every right to be, Harry knew he hated being interrupted during classes. But this... It couldn't wait.

"I got it!" All the excitement and stress was finally getting to him, making him feel a little bit lightheaded. "I got the role!"

"Role? What role?"

"The swan, I'll be the swan!"

"Harry, you were the swan so many times I see no reason for making a call to tell me this... You were the little swan since your fourteen birthday."

"No, _dyadyushka_ , I'm not the little swan," Harry was amused rather than angry hearing Grindelwald's complaint. "I'm the big swan, the biggest of them all," he laughed somewhat histerically, the meaning of it overhelming him once again. "I'm the swan prince."

There was silence on the other side of the line.

"You're Odette?" Grindelwald seemed not to believe. "So you're doing it the Bourne's way?"

"Somehow," Harry wanted to explain more, but his teacher was seemingly too delighted to listen:

"That's... That's brillaint, Harry." The boy could hear praise in Grindelwald's voice. "But remeber, it's only the beginning... The role... It's so much more demanding than anything you've done so far... If you make it, I'll certainly come to see you fly."

"I'd love you to come!"

Someone sneered behind the wall.

Only now Harry could see Tom Riddle leaning against it. How long was he eavesdropping?

"I have to go, rehersal, " Harry tried to end the conversation naturally. "I'll call you later."

"Pathetic," Riddle said uninvited, when Harry ended the call. "Are you going to call him about every little thing? What a pity you didn't mention you nearly broke down in tears yesterday... Wait, maybe you should tell him I'm the mean one?" The other dancer smirked unpleasantly. "You'll have plenty occassions, my swan queen. I'm prince Siegfried," Riddle bowed theatrically and left Harry alone and speechless.

It wasn't going to be an easy walk.

...

"Practice with Tom, he's the evil one," Mr Malfoy directed Harry, looking at the ever dissatisfied dancer. They were trying to get into roles for hours now, but it wasn't working. Harry was sure Lucius Mafloy was already thinking about recasting. He should probably stick with Ginny and Angelina, they were perfect Swan Queen and princess Sigi, as they were calling her now. "You could learn a thing or two, Tom, taking into account that prince Siegfried is a tender dreamer and not a deadly hunter. Don't kill our swan."

It simply wasn't working. In the beginning Harry couldn't understand why Grindelwald doubted him - he had the technique to dance Odette's part, he practiced it before - but now that he was actually trying to play it, it was so much harder. The Swan Prince wasn't that bad; he could imagine what it would feel like to be enchanted, left alone in the wilderness, only allowed to regain his true form at night. He felt this before, the solitude of an outsider. But the Swan Prince could be rescued with love and that part was... harder. He never was in love. Back in Russia it was literally forbidden to love the way he wanted to, besides he didn't have enough time to _think_ about love, not to mention _falling_ in love. Here... It seemed he's forgotten what it was like to be around people. The Black Swan was a little bit easier in this aspect: Harry understood wanting, he's envied before. Though it was never about romantic love, he did envy - when all his friends were going back home for Christmas and he had to stay in the dormitory or when parents came to see their children perform and he was always alone... The Black Swan wanted love... Or maybe it was something else? Maybe it only wanted to steal other's happiness? Harry didn't want his Odile to be simply evil. The evil was coming from something else. If he was ever to turn evil, it would be probably because of jealousy.

They were left alone. It was... awkward. Harry still felt weird after their first - and second - unfortunate encounters. The setting sun was shining brightly thorugh the high windows, creating a nearly heavenly halo around Tom's face, but the expression it was bearing was far from angelic.

"Let's start from the beginning," Harry offered with little enthusiasm. "We should work on our partnership first."

 _It could be easier, if we had any parthership to begin with_ , Harry thought feeling discouraged. Dance-wise they were made for each other. Maybe if Tom was a little bit more friendly, it would be easier to... bond somehow? Not that Harry was that nice. They haven't really talked so far.

It wasn't that Harry had anything against Tom; if anything, he was afraid about his own professionalism, when the two of them were together. Riddle was making him uneasy, mostly when they were not dancing. When they were... Harry was pretty sure he fell for prince Siegfried.

"If you won't stop doing it, I can go home already."

"And what exactly am I doing, if you would be so kind to illuminate me?" Why was that Riddle guy so annoying? Why couldn't he let Harry do his job? And why was he making him so irritated without a real reason?

"You're drifting apart when you should be flying," Tom Riddle answered, looking at their reflection in the mirror.

Wait, did they already end that passage? Harry couldn't remeber the steps, he must have taken them automatically... For some reason Riddle's hands were still on his waist - for the briefest moment it seemed to Harry Tom's thumbs were circling against his skin, but it had to be an illusion.

"What are you thinking about?" Riddle's reflection asked, but Harry could feel a real warm breath against his neck.

"I'm... I'm admiring your reflection," he answered truthfully, not sure if the words escaped his mouth or if maybe it was all a weird dream.

"You should turn around and look at the orginal then, I've heard it's even more splendid." Was it a dare or something else in Tom's voice? Whatever it was, Harry didn't want it to end.

He did as he was told and this time he was sure Tom's hands were still on him on purpose. He didn't mind; it seemed it was only a question of time for them to end in this situation for better or worse. Harry looked at his partrner's face, for the first time noticing the few freckles on his nose. It made Tom more _human_ ; otherwise he was beautiful like a painting - distant and eternal, to look at, but never to touch. A masterpiece. He tilted his head slightly and it made Harry think about some other boy, someone he's met in the distant past in school, but the memory was hiding in the mist of oblivion. It seemed he could nearly remember the boy, his name close and far away at the same time.

"You're doing it again," Tom looked at him reproachfully, leaning closer. "And I don't like it."

Harry wanted to say something back, to let Riddle know he had every right to do whatever he wanted, but only a shallow breath escaped his mouth when one of Tom's hands left his hipbone and moved to his cheek, caressing it way more gently than Harry could expect. A frigid shiver run down his spine, but this time he didn't want to run away. Something in him wanted to stay, to see what may happen if he allows himself to try. An unfamiliar desire formed in his head and soon enough his own hands were on Tom's neck and shoulders, feeling so different from when they danced together.

The kiss on his cheek felt like a question, though there was no chance he could resist any of Tom's pledges now. It felt too right to be finally able to touch him without wondering whether he was too close, whether Tom would notice there was much more than dancing on his part. Tom kissed him once more, this time taking his breath away. The world seemed... distant, gone. Harry didn't wan't to close his eyes, trying to memorize every little thing about this moment: Tom's eyes, hidden behind his dark lashes, his warm breath and the way his arms were wrapped around his body, the small grimace on his face when Harry tried to pull away to catch a breath. Tom tugged him closer once again and Harry smiled, barely holding back a joyous laughter; it was happening, he wasn't dreaming. Tom wanted him too, unbelievable as it was. He dared to kiss him once again, but something changed and all of a sudden Tom was stiff and cold.

"Stop it!" His voice was odd and unreadable, just like his face. "Don't touch me, you..." It seemed there was no word vile enough to describe exactly what Tom was thinking about him right now, so instead of screaming at him, he jumped away and nearly run towards the door.

"W-what?" Harry felt dumbfounded. What happened right now? What was it all about? "You started it," he shouted without much force, but there was no one in the practice room to reply.

...

Harry couldn't sleep that night. Something... Something ached in his chest and at first he wondered whether he should call an ambulance. Google diagnosed him with a stroke and lung cancer, but one search result hit home much more: he was heartbroken.

 _Pathetic_ , the echo of Tom Riddle's voice sounded somewhere in Harry's head and it made him feel even worse. Why did he have to fall for him? Why? He should have known better, the ending was perfectly clear - he'll have to leave and disappoint everyone or stay and die slowly, looking at the hatered in his dance partner's eyes. It was so cliche, Harry couldn't believe it was really happening. Wasn't it a little bit too similar to his own teacher's story? What was Grindenwald dancing back then? Was it _The Nutcracker_? Yes, the enchanted prince fell for Sugar Plum Fairy's Cavalier! At least it didn't sound as tragic as Harry's story so far - Gellert and Albus Dumbledore might have never ended together on stage, but off it they were perfectly fine till this day...

Harry thought he could finally understand Odile - maybe the black swan was in love with pince Siegfried and only wanted to win his heart just like Odette? Driven not by evil, but desperation?

The ache in his chest was getting worse. It was already past three in the morning. At this rate he could just stand up already and practice his coda.

Grabbing a glass of water from his small kitchen, Harry looked out the window.

Across the street in Tom Riddle's flat the lights were still up.

…

Tom wasn't nice before, but what happened after that unfortunate rehearsal, was much worse – he was distant and cold, no longer teasing him with his stupid remarks or comparing him to a stone. Harry could feel his heart dying with every silent hour.

There was nothing he could do – Tom didn't want to talk with him; they only danced, but it wasn't the same.

There was something between them before, but it was gone now. It seemed they were made for each other, as if they knew one another, so perfectly were their bodies working together when they danced. It was almost as if they've met before. Harry coulnd't forgive himself for destroying it, whatever it was.

…

"If you won't make up, I'll take your roles away. Ginevra and Angelina are more than capable to make it on their own."

It wasn't a threath, it was a declaration. The premiere date was getting closer and Lucius Malfoy had every right to be pissed off. What was the point of putting a second version on stage, when the main dancers seemed to despise each other?

Harry didn't want to think what would his teacher say if he knew what was happening... He was trying to stay professional, but how could he, when Riddle didn't let him? Tom was angry and Harry was pretty much sure he had the right to be. Kissing him that day... What was he thinking? That it would make him transform into the black swan? Or that it would help him understand love? Why was he so stupid?

...

Harry couldn't help looking at Tom's windows every now and then. After a week he was sure Tom was living alone and a rather uneventful life, if one didn't count Harry's own attempt at making it miserable. Maybe Tom was right? Maybe it was his head that produced all the unexpected words he thought Tom said?

Normally he would consider talking it through a reasonable solution, but ever since their kiss Tom was always surrounded by a group of dancers and it was nearly impossible to spot him alone. Harry knew it was on purpees – Tom had to despise him so much he didn't even want to be in the same room with him outside practice... He wondered how much longer his heart could stand the pain of rejection. Would it ever go away?

Sitting on his window frame, Harry observed the street, sipping his white tea. It was an especially cold end of summer and the leaves were slowly turning to gold. Harry could only think how nice it would be to sit here with Tom, sharing a blanket or maybe drinking some wine. What a lovesick fool did he become... _Dyadyushka_ would probably scold him about this gloomy attitude, so Harry didn't pick any of his calls, though he desperately needed to talk with someone... What a pity he had no friends, not here and back in Russia... Dance was everything he knew and everything he ever cared about. After his parents' sudden death it became his escape, a way to transform into someone entirely different. Harry forgot who he was before; the child from his memories was nothing more than a shadow now, a sad figure against the room full of mirrors, waiting in line for the audition with no one to encourage him...

No one but uncle Albus.

How could he forget about him? The one who clapped when he so spectacularly fell down after that one pirouette...

He quickly run for his phone, left alone in his training bag – he wasn't ecpecting anyone to call him either way – and dialed the number with a new burst of hope in his heart.

"Hello?" A familiar voice sounded on the other side and Harry smiled unconsciously.

"It's me."

"Harry?" Albus Dumbledore's voice seemed rather sleepy. Why would he be sleeping... Harry thought with some surpise, but then he saw the clock; it was already midnight. How long did he sit at the window, trying to spot Tom coming back home? "Harry, did something happen?"

"I'm so sorry I woke you up," he tried to sound apologetically enough, but there was more of impatience than apology in his words.

It seemed to Harry he's heard _dyadyushka's_ voice somewhere on the other side of the line, but the ongoing silence of uncle Albus made him guess the latter left the room, probably heading towards the yellow-painted kitchen.

"What happened, Harry? You wouldn't call at this hour if you looked at the clock before picking my number." Harry smiled to himself; maybe dyadyushka was the better teacher, but Albus Dumbledore was the one to always know what was going on in Harry's head. "Is it something about the play?"

"It's about prince Sigfried," Harry sighted with resignation. "I think I messed it up... A lot."

"And how exactly did you mess it up?"

"I... I fell for him." Heavens, it was so weird discussing it with anyone, let alone uncle Albus, but he had to pour his thoughts out. "And I kissed him. Well, actually it was him, _he_ kissed _me_. But now he hates me and I'm afraid they'll take the part away from me and I'll be finished here and _dyadyushka_ and you... You'll be disappointed... _I'll_ be disapointed... And I can't let it go, it's like being sick without a cure and I know I should stop thinking about him that way, but it hurts so much..."

"Harry," uncle Albus said after a moment of silence that seemed to drag on forever. "Isn't your partner's name Tom?"

"How did you know?"

"Gellert told me." There was an unexpected note of annoyance in his uncle's voice, something Harry's never heard before. "As usually he didn't think about anything but your dancing."

"What do you mean?"

"Tom... He's been here, in our school," uncle Albus stopped for a moment, as if he had to take a deep breath. "Don't you remember? You were following him all the time, you were like his second shadow."

"I don't... I don't remember."

"It was right before your parents' accident." Once again Harry felt a blunt stinging in his chest. His parents... He tried not to think about it. They died in a car crash, driving to the theater. They wanted to see him dance. "And your scar... Remember who gave it to you?"

He tried to recall the memory, but it was so hard... Everything from before his parents' tragic death was a blur, an old photo with faces that were no longer recognizable.

"I... I think it was during _The Nutcracker_ , wasn't it? Something fell on me, a piece of scenography," he said in the end, seeing the beautiful winter scenery and hearing the music from a day that passed.

"The wooden hanger," uncle Albus helped him a bit. " _Foma_ slipped and it fell on you."

"What?" _Foma_ , the name sounded familiar and dear, like a name of a friend. "Impossible, that would mean... I foget him? Why didn't I meet him after the accident?"

"Gellert was furious, as you may guess... He was always overprotective of you, but Tom was another of his favourite students, so he found a place for him in England." The explanation sounded believable enough. "That's why..."

"That's why he didn't want me to go, right?" Harry guessed, remembering _dyadyushka's_ strong objections.

" _Foma_... He was always on the... odd side. He was having a hard time back then, his parents parted... You were the one to drag him in the group, sometimes against his will." It seemed to Harry he's heard a chuckle on the other side. "I suppose Gellert saw too much of himself in Tom and was afraid of the influence he might have on you."

"Well, it's not like he was _mistaken_ ," Harry sighted with misery, sinking down to his previous post near the window. The lights were up in Tom's flat now; he's missed his return.

...

"Slap me," Harry said clearly when they were left alone.

"I'm not into such things," Riddle replied with with disgust.

"No, I didn't mean anything like this..." Harry stopped and took a deep breath. He had to remain calm. "If you're angry about the kiss, slap me and we can call it even. We have to get over it if we want to dance next week."

Tom seemed puzzled for some reason. He was standing closer now and Harry thought briefly that it was a little bit too close to slap anyone.

"You think that I'm mad about the kiss? That I'm mad at you?" A distant tone of amusement sounded in Riddle's suddenly tired voice. "Not everything's about you, Harry Potter."

"What is it then?" Harry felt his blood getting hot with anger. It wasn't about him? Of course it wasn't, he was trying to be professional! "What is so important you can't behave like an adult?"

For a moment it seemed Tom will laugh it off, going back to his usual self, but something in his eyes looked nearly agonizing and in the end the dancer sat down against the wall, sighting:

"I can't... I can't allow myself..." he began hesistanlty, but changed the subject all of a sudden: "I don't know how to dance it. The betrayal... Why would he swear knowing the consequences? How could he not recognize the double? For heavens' sake, if Longbottom started wearing all black, I could tell there's something going on and I'm not even close with him. Why is the prince so stupid?"

"He was seduced," Harry couldn't believe this conversation was happening. Why couldn't they talk it through weeks ago? "Siegfried has two sides too - he's the one to fall in love so quickly and carelessly, but he has his own needs too... And Odile... She's everything Odette's not, like the other side of one coin. Maybe," he hesitated for a moment, "maybe it's me? Maybe I can't seduce you properly?"

"You? You seduced me a long time ago," Tom said simply, not even looking at Harry. He was staring at the window absently, apparently lost in his own thoughts. "If anything, I'm the problem, because I don't let myself be seduced." Harry felt his legs getting weaker all of a sudden. He had to sit down to hide it somehow. What was up with Riddle today? "Love," he continued in an ever tired tone, "is eternally bound with betrayal. If you love, you get weak and surrender to your cravings and then you betray either yourself ot the one you love, you hurt someone or get hurt yourself. It is wiser not to love at all."

"It's the saddest vision of love I've ever heard about," Harry replied, trying to control his voice. Why was Tom so... sceptical? Was is something from his past or was he simply so afraid of getting hurt he wouldn't even dare to try? "Love is so much more than betrayal and fall."

"What is it then?" Riddle finally looked back at Harry and the boy felt a sudden need to run away. He was afraid, but not of Tom – he was afraid of himself and all the things he could screw up. "What is love for you?"

"L-love," Harry began with a trembling voice, "Love is getting an hour earlier to buy fresh apples and doubling the amount of tea in your thermos..." Riddle looked a bit blant hearing his words, but Harry continued: "It's making sure the one you care about took his training bag from dormitory and ate breakfast..."

"You remember..." Tom tried to interrupt him, but Harry didn't let him:

"It's looking out of the window to check if he came home after rehearsal. It's waking up in the middle of a night feeling hollow and in pain, wondering why the lights are still on in the windows across the street. It's knowing when to let go, even if it's the last thing you want to do. But it's also the peace of heart you feel when the one you care about returns home, even if not to you. And... it's in the moment your see his reflection in the mirror and think he's the most beautiful thing in the entire world and you would give up everything for that one moment to last forever. It's all about sacrifice and pain and longing and trying, always hoping for the best."

"You're absolutely crazy," Tom summed him up with bewildered eyes. More than ever he looked lost and helpless, like the child Harry could finally remember.

"I'm in love," he replied simply, smiling and reaching out to caress Tom's cheek. He gave in like a cat. " _Foma_."

…

"Lucius, I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Harry could already hear _dyadyusha's_ voice coming from behind his dressing-room's door. He saw him and uncle Albus in the audience during second act. Later... he was too preocuppied with the dance to notice anything.

"The public loved you," Tom whispered in his ear, leaning against his chair.

"Did _you_ love me?" Harry smiled at their reflection in the mirror. He still had some make up on; the Swan Prince who died and was briefly brought back to live to enjoy a glass of champagne with prince Siegfried.

"So much I died with you," Tom replied softly, a small smirk forming on his lips. "Don't you remember?"


End file.
